As I read more and more articles by my already all-time favourite journalist Joseph Mitchell, I get more and more interested in the whole development of the literary style of journalism that Mitchell employed. I wouldn’t say that I was a complete stranger to the form, because I already have a couple of books on the subject, but these are more to do with learning the techniques of literary journalism, rather than learning the development of the form itself.
Enter this book, which I added to my bookshelves just before Christmas (at fairly considerable expense may I add). It’s title of course, is True Stories: A Century of Literary Journalism by Norman Sims (Northwestern University Press), and it claims to be a book which focuses primarily on the history and development of literary journalism; exactly the kind of book I was looking for. The question that remains though, is whether this book is the DEFINITIVE word on the history and development of literary journalism?
Well, for me, having not read it yet, it’s too early to say, although I certainly haven’t seen much else in the way of competition (maybe somebody out there knows better?). I will say that I’m impressed at how well the author Norman Sims qualifies himself. He’s a professor of journalism at the University of Massachusetts, and the editor of a number of additional publications which focus on literary journalism, And he only seems to underline all of this by showing a high degree of passion for the subject (you can get a real feel of that passion by reading Brian Spadora’s interview with Sims over at Poynter Online).
It’s looking promising, but there’s one thing that makes it look even more so! It’s the one thing that made me buy this book instantly; without question and without a second thought. And that one thing is the fact that Norman Sims spent many hours in the presence of Joseph Mitchell before he died, learning about his life and his style of journalism. And much of what Sims learnt from Mitchell during this time is included in this book.
So there we go I’ve answered my own question, regardless of the fact that I haven’t even read the book yet. True Stories: A Century of Literary Journalism offers a direct link to Mitchell, and that to me is about as definitive as it gets!
About Rob
says:
looks great rob ,sadly maybe a dying art as well ,must start up in the old hotel soon ,will wait with baited breath for your thoughts on this one ,cheers stu
says:
I agree Stu. There seems to be less and less outlets for the form. I know you’re a busy man but trust me, you really do need to get into Up In the Old Hotel ASAP. It’s one of the few books that I’d consider to be a ‘soul toucher’.
Warmest
Rob
says:
i will in the week rob ,just got how fiction works to finish ,then be able to compare notes
Sort of along these lines is the book The New New Journalism about the generation of literary journalists after Tom Wolf and the like. It’s a book of interviews. I read mainly the interview with Jon Krakauer (for a class) but found it enjoyable.
says:
Thanks for that Lauren. I think I’ve seen that book – it’s got a lot of coloured dots on the cover right? I’ll certainly look it out.
Warmest
Rob
Rob,
Thanks for buying True Stories. You ask whether or not it’s a definitive history of literary journalism. I’d say the other candidate for that title is John Hartsock’s “A History of American Literary Journalism: The Emergence of a Modern Narrative Form” (University of Massachusetts Press, 2000). John’s approach comes more from a literary theory perspective, and mine from a cultural history point of view. We’re good friends, and we’re both officers in the International Association for Literary Journalism Studies, which produces a journal called Literary Journalism Studies. You might want to check that out.
As for Joe Mitchell, it’s always great to hear of another Mitchell fan. He is my favorite literary journalist of the 20th century. I think he influenced the styles of more quality literary journalists than any other writer, and he did so without self-promotion. I was just working on some lecture material about Joe, and I once again realized how much I miss him. The last time we talked was the day before he went in the hospital for what he thought was some minor surgery. He called me to ask a favor. The next day he went into the hospital, and unfortunately he died there on May 24, 1996, at age 87.
I hope you enjoy the book. At the end, I attached a substantial bibliography of literary journalism from the past 100+ years. If you get into that reading list, you will be a busy but satisfied reader.
Norm Sims
says:
Professor Sims,
. I know I asked for other people’s suggestions on literary journalism titles but I didn’t expect to hear from the man himself. What a great, great honour!
If I wasn’t sitting down when I read your message then I would have fallen down
Anyway, shaking off these feelings of awestruck (at least for a moment) I thank you for your Hartsock recommendation. I’ll certainly be checking that out (how could I not?). And I’ll also be sure to track down some info on the Literary Journalism Studies journal that you talk about.
However, I thank you more for your personal recollections and thoughts on Joe Mitchell. In all honesty Joe entered my life only recently – mainly through his Up in the Old Hotel collection – but in that short time he has touched me in an absolute and profound way. And I think a lot of this is to do with the reason that you give for liking him so much – his complete absence of self-promotion.
I know you mean this more, in this case, in relation to the promoting of his own style of journalism, but I also mean it in relation to his own personal self promotion. I see no pretentiousness in the way of Mitchell’s reportage, and there’s certainly no ‘show boating’. Instead it’s this remarkable ability that Mitchell has for literally putting his subjects in the room as one reads about them; making one see them, making one feel them, and most of all making one connect with them (which I guess is a primary aim of literary journalism, so JOB DONE!!
).
I already have a deep affinity with the culture, history and architecture of New York (even though I’ve yet to visit
), and Mitchell has definitely done more to fuel this than any other writer. And that’s because he’s helped me to feel certain aspects of New York living during the earlier half of the twentieth-century, rather than just simply reading about them. And that to me is one of the greatest gifts I’ve been given as a reader so far in my 42 years.
Today however I received another gift, in being able to connect with someone who not only had a direct relationship with the great Joe Mitchell, but who is an ambassador, cultivator and ‘preacher’ of the style of journalism that Mitchell utilised and developed upon so well. As I said Professor Sims it’s a great honour. And I thank you for having given me the opportunity to speak with you.
Warmest Regards
Rob
Rob,
Thanks for the kind words. I agree with your interpretation of Joe Mitchell. He was a quiet, curious, mannered gentleman who was always interested in the other people in the room and hesitated (in the extreme) to talk about himself. He told me that if he had any skill as a reporter, it came from two qualities: He could talk to anyone and he was genuinely interested in what they had to say.
Over 30 years of study, I’ve met a lot of literary journalists. I’ve never met one I didn’t like. But two of them share an interesting quality. Writers have a voice and a presence on the page, but when you meet them, they are not always the same as that voice. On the page, voice can be a selective and creative element in their writing. Mitchell in person struck me as exactly like the Mitchell I had met on the page. He was gentle, knowledgeable, had a great memory, and held a quiet philosophical perspective on his work. The other writer was John McPhee, the great literary journalist from The New Yorker. In person, he’s cautious in what he says and his sentences roll out in complete form, structured just like the ones on the page. In short, when I met both men, I felt I had known them for a long time.
Norm Sims